Superstar
by Liete
Summary: -US/UK, AU- 'Hey, someday I'll write a song just for you and when it comes on, you can say, 'that one's just for me.'
1. Setting the Stage

**Superstar**

**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters.  
**

Had their parents not been friends, Arthur probably wouldn't have given Alfred the time of day, small town or not. Bad enough that they had moved from his beautiful England to some nowhere town in Montana, without insisting that he befriend the obnoxious boy. And he was oh so tempted to defy his parents' wishes when Alfred asked him if the caterpillars on his forehead would turn into butterflies, but killing the son of their long time friends probably wouldn't go over so well. Worse yet, Alfred took to him right away, even after their rough first impression, and insisted that they go everywhere and do everything together.

Funny how spending enough time around someone endears them to you, and soon Arthur found that Alfred was an almost pleasant constant in his life. A rock to get him through what would otherwise be many miserable years through elementary and middle school, and the first few years of high school.

He wasn't quite sure when things changed, maybe they had been changing all along and he just hadn't noticed. The day they started their senior year of high school, Arthur saw Alfred for the first time since their summer vacation had begun.

Alfred had always been a gangly thing, practically drowning in that heirloom bomber jacket he was so fond of, but with enough ego and audacity to make up for his lack of stature. But this…this _man_ was light years above and beyond the awkward boy Arthur had grown up with. It seemed spending the summer helping his uncle on his cattle ranch (something about Alfred being a cowboy just seemed _right_) , with long days in the sun, had done wonders for his physique. He wasn't the only one who noticed Alfred's change, of course, and Arthur noted with some alarm how incensed he felt when the girls who had always ignored them were suddenly hanging off Alfred's (well toned) arms and cooing at him, earning a smile that he swore never made him that weak in the knees before, and he wasn't even the recipient!

Then there was the guitar. The instigator. The source of all his woes to come. Oh, it had started off innocently enough, as Alfred had invited his British friend over to listen to him haphazardly pluck at the guitar strings in a crude mockery of music and looked (adorably) disappointed when Arthur gave his scathing review of that would-be musical performance. Arthur had assumed it would end there.

But it continued on and on, and there was no doubt that Alfred improved as time went on and on, and soon he was serenading the girls hanging off his arms and giving up his old dreams of being an astronaut for dreams of rocking out in front of an screaming audience. Arthur was sure he was losing him to this new life he was building for himself.

That is, until prom rolled around.

A ridiculous custom, to be sure, but Alfred had insisted he attend and so Arthur found himself with the latest of the girls he had attempted to date, despite knowing they were more interested in his accent and his connection to Alfred than actually getting to know him. The Briton spent the majority of the night scowling at his table and shooting daggers at Alfred's date, his own having ditched him towards the beginning of the night, that is until the American made his way to him, face flushed and eyes bright (and so beautiful), and kissed him.

On the mouth.

In front of all their classmates.

Without being under the influence of anything.

It was too much, and Arthur roughly pushed away and fled. He should have known that he wouldn't be able to outrun Alfred, and soon enough there was a hand tugging him to a sudden halt, crashing into too strong and too warm arms. He put up a valiant fight, if he did say so himself, but the American was literally like a rock and merely held Arthur stubbornly in place. When Arthur finally stopped struggling, he was struck with Alfred's very vulnerable expression, somewhere between hopeful and terrified, so very unlike his usual infuriating cockiness.

"I really like you, Arthur. I always have."

Arthur froze and felt all the blood rush to his face. Alfred took that as an invitation to lean in and kiss him again, softer, sweeter, this time. With a slight gasp, Arthur kissed back desperately, throwing his arms around his friend. All that time he had been looking for the words to describe how he felt, an explanation for how things had changed (or how they'd always been), and now he knew.

He was so in love with Alfred it was embarrassing.

Of course it was embarrassing to have to face his classmates after, but he was too proud to let it get to him. As if he had absorbed some of Alfred's confidence, he dared anyone to say anything about it. Sure, he got his share of dirty looks from Alfred's fan club, but they deserved it in the first place.

Naturally this meant he had to be supportive of Alfred's music hobby, and even assist him in whatever way he could. He was Alfred's self proclaimed number one fan, as he believed it was little more than a hobby he enjoyed in his free time, and once he realized that nothing would ever come of it, he'd set his sights back onto college. Arthur had plans for them. Of the two of them studying back in dear England, so he could have both of the things he loved most.

But then things never really work out the way you want them to, and Alfred continued to set his sights on a fabulous horizon that promised the high life and all the glamour that came with it.

"Keep listening, all right? Someday it will be me on there!" Alfred cranked up his radio to a volume that would likely bring his house down around him, as it blasted some dreadful new Top 40 song. He played an air guitar as he bounced around on his bed and crooned along."You can barely play the guitar and you think you'll be a superstar?" Arthur scowled from his seat on Alfred's floor, not impressed by the American's mock performance. The insult was enough to stop the show and coax Alfred into flopping down next to Arthur, where he proceeded to curl himself around the Briton and press kisses to his hair."You like it when I play though, don't you? Hey, someday I'll write a song just for you and when it comes on, you can say, 'that one's just for me!'" His lips moved down to Arthur's, begging affection from the stiff boy in his arms."I tolerate it, yes." He gave in, however, and pressed back with more fervor. At length he pulled away and gave the American a pleading look as he caught his breath. "You're really leaving then?""Of course I am! There's too much waiting for me out there, and not even you can keep me here..." He kissed Arthur softly this time, lingering slightly as he continued. "...But when I make it big, I'll come back for you. So you better stay my biggest fan."

"Hnn. And I'll be here to catch you before you fall flat on your face, and then I'll say 'I told you so.'"

Alfred laughed loudly at that. "You're so stiff. I sent out my demo tape today, so keep your fingers crossed!"

"You know it's not too late to pull a few strings and get you enrolled in the fall semester…"

"No way! It'll definitely work out and I won't need to waste money on another four years of sleeping through class. Whatever happened to England, anyway?"

Arthur flushed a deep red and stared decidedly at his hands as he wrung them. "W-Well…I didn't want to leave unless you were with me."

A pregnant silence hung between them for a few agonizing moments until Alfred finally broke it.

"Arthur."

He didn't lift his head

"Arthur, come on." He was coaxed into looking up by that wonderful mouth on his. "How about this? When I get famous enough, I'll take us to England!"

"Cocky bastard. Fine, it's a deal."

He never expected it to actually happen, anyway.

But then Alfred got a response, and an invitation to come to New York. The veritable beginning of the end.


	2. Up Goes the Curtain

**Superstar**

**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.  
**

"Close your eyes and I'll kiss you," Alfred sang in a low voice, dropping kisses along his face in that teasing way he enjoyed so much, knowing that sooner or later Arthur would snap and snarl "just kiss me, damn it!"

"Oh, bloody-" Arthur started to gripe, but was cut off by Alfred's finger to his lips.

"Tomorrow I'll miss you. But remember I'll always be true." Alfred grinned when Arthur scowled at him, not deterred in the slightest.

"And then while I'm away, I'll write home everyday and I'll send all my loving to you." With a resigned sigh, Arthur dropped all pretenses of being annoyed and simply listened. Lately Alfred was most sincere when he was singing, not that he'd been doing much else lately anyway.

"I'll pretend that I'm kissing the lips I am missing and hope that my dreams will come true." Alfred brushed his lips against Arthur's, who whined when he abruptly pulled away again. "And then while I'm away, I'll write home everyday and I'll send all my loving to you. All my loving, I will send to you. All my loving, darling, I'll be true."

"Always be true…hmph, you better. At any rate, when did you get so sappy?" Alfred merely smiled impishly in response and Arthur had to roll his eyes. "And really, you'll write home everyday, will you?"

"You really think I'll be able to go more than a day without talking to you? Last summer was bad enough. Hell, I'll even go to the library to send you an email if necessary!"

"Heaven forbid."

He was going to miss their banter, since he already knew sniping remarks over email wouldn't measure up to seeing Alfred scowl in person. Seeing Alfred in person…

Abruptly he pulled Alfred into a hug, which the American gently returned. Arthur tried not to make it obvious that he was committing that moment to memory. Being in Alfred's arms, holding him. The way his face fit just so in the crook of Alfred's neck, how Alfred's hands never seemed to find the right place to rest, how Alfred smelled when he was this close. Old leather, cheap cologne, and hamburgers. Arthur closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Who knew when he'd next have the chance to do this again?

Naturally that meant Alfred spoiled the moment by pushing him away, but before Arthur could protest indignantly, he felt something warm and heavy draped around his shoulders. He realized with a start that it was Alfred's beloved bomber jacket, the one he wouldn't let just _anyone_ touch.

"What…what are you doing dumping this ratty thing on me?!" All right, so that wasn't the best response, but he was too flustered to think properly.

"Hey! _Hey. _It was my great grandfather's, and it's fucking awesome, so don't even try to make fun of it!" Alfred paused for a moment, looking embarrassed at his outburst, before clearing his throat. "Anyway…it's important to me, you know, like…you are. Geez, I just want you to have it, all right?!"

It was strange how Alfred could sing the most intimate of love songs without inhibitions or the slightest hint of modesty, and yet when it came to using his own words to express his feelings, he became awkward and shy. It was adorable, really.

But Arthur was more concerned with the fact that he was wearing such a precious garment. Had Alfred not been standing there staring at him, he probably would have pulled the jacket close around him and buried his face in it like some giddy schoolgirl. Instead he gave Alfred a helpless look.

"But why…?"

"Consider it a promise. I'm going to want it back, you know," Alfred replied, still looking awkward and out of his element.

"…Git." But he was smiling like a fool despite himself and soon Alfred was, too.

Confidence renewed, Alfred tugged on either side of the collar of the jacket, pulling Arthur forward and grinning at the half-hearted protests.

"So let's try this again, shall we? Close your eyes and I'll kiss you…" He started singing again as he met Arthur's mouth halfway.

For all he had prepared himself for it, it was still difficult to watch Alfred get on the bus that would take him from their nowhere town to his exciting new life (that Arthur was still deep down hoping would crash and burn). He hung towards the back of the crowd that had gathered and tried to look nonchalant, especially after what Alfred had said the night before.

"_Why don't you wear the jacket when you see me off tomorrow?"_

"_I most certainly will not! I don't want to look like I'm pining before you've even left."_

"_So you _will_ be pining for me, you're saying?"_

"_Oh, sod off."_

They'd more than adequately said their goodbyes at that time, so he wouldn't have to join the slew of squealing girls begging "Alfie, don't forget about me!" and "Alfred, dedicate a song to me!" and other inane babbling that Alfred continued to take in stride and use as practice for what he swore would be bigger crowds someday.

As the bus rolled away, however, Alfred's gaze met his and they stared at each other meaningfully until the vehicle was out of sight. Arthur would never admit that he'd done little more the rest of that day than curl himself into Alfred's jacket and miss him terribly.

For awhile Alfred kept his promise to write, and what kept Arthur going through the summer and all the odd jobs he agreed to do for the neighbors was knowing that news from New York would be waiting for him when he got home. Alfred spoke fondly of the city and his upward climb to stardom.

"I've found a manager even! He's French and a pervert, but I really think he'll be my ticket to the top!"

"What was that? I stopped caring at 'he's French'."

Arthur, for his part, was careful not too sound too anxious in his emails. If he had a dime for every time he'd deleted a sentence that was some variation of "I want you here so badly, Alfred, it's driving me crazy", he would have enough money to pay for his college education.

In retrospect, he probably should have _said _that he missed Alfred, but even through it all he continued to hold onto the hope that Alfred would give up and come back home.

That is, until that fateful night at the end of the summer when Alfred sent him a very brief email.

"Watch the news (you know which one) tonight! You're in for a surprise!"

It was the first time he had _seen_ Alfred in months, and he got a distinct sense of déjà vu as he watched the television with a mix of awe and horror. Once again, Alfred had changed. He was wearing stage makeup, that was for certain, and contacts? Or perhaps he'd gotten Lasik? He was so…dazzling, it was unnerving. His Alfred didn't need makeup, his complexion clear, and those wire frames of his added a certain charm that was notably absent in the Alfred babbling excitedly about his new song.

Wait, new song? That definitely snapped Arthur back to attention.

"I hope everyone will support me and buy the single! This is really exciting for me, too. I'd always hoped I'd wind up on the radio!"

He was so sincere and goofy that Arthur kicked himself for finding him unnerving. Just because his appearance changed didn't change that he was Alfred. Arthur smiled warmly at Alfred's excitement, which he was now beginning to feel himself. Alfred had really done it!

"So what is your inspiration for your music, Alfred? That song was just so romantic!"

Alfred paused, looking embarrassed and Arthur's heart sped up. Was he really going to..?

"Well…I've had a lot of great experiences since my arrival and I've met some…special people here, too." Alfred finally responded, looking sheepish.

And then Arthur's stomach was somewhere near his feet, and he couldn't watch anymore. It was in a daze that he stumbled to his computer and found Alfred's song online, where his voice (_Alfred's_ voice) sang passionately of pining love for a girl. A girl.

Surely there was an explanation for it, and he didn't bother to mask his frustration and demanding tone in the email he wrote to Alfred that night.

He never did get a response, or any other email after that.


	3. Down Go the Lights

**Superstar**

**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: Not mine!**

**A/N: This is the last chapter, and I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's been reading this. Your kind words really mean a lot to me.  
**

Arthur spent the remainder of his summer feeling sorry for himself, and not caring who he inconvenienced in the process. He had considered sending Alfred another indignant email, but decided against it, not wanting to look desperate. And so he sulked and curled up in Alfred's jacket like some lovesick teenager (which he was, but he'd never actually admit that).

As soon as school started, however, he dropped the pathetic act and focused on throwing himself into his studies. He may have been heartbroken, but he wouldn't throw his future away. Classes were a welcome distraction, as were the activities he involved himself in. He also derived a great deal of pleasure from torturing his Spanish roommate.

He also resolved to keep up his end of the promise, and stay Alfred's biggest fan. He was first in line to buy Alfred's first album, he watched every show he appeared on, bought every magazine with his face on it, and turned up the radio to deafening volumes when his songs came on (although that part also coincided with the Spaniard torture). It probably seemed pathetic to some, but he was determined to be the better person and not be a dirty liar like that (wonderful) bastard Alfred.

Every time he saw that French manager of Alfred's, he wanted to wring that frog's neck. He was always molesting Alfred in front of the cameras and acting completely unrepentant for his actions. Arthur fumed, the fans may squeeze Alfred's hands and hang off his arms, but everything above the shoulders and below the waist was his. _His._ But then Arthur's thoughts would come to a crashing halt and he'd realize that, no, that wasn't true. He no longer had any claim to any part of Alfred. He wondered if that French pervert wasn't the cause, and hated him all the more.

Any remaining hopes he might have had were always dashed when he watched shows Alfred made an appearance on, or read interviews in magazines. He never mentioned having a special person in his life, and always mentioned his experiences in the city and the people he had met there as the source of his inspiration for his music. Arthur would often scrutinize the photos in those magazines, noting that the effects meant to improve the pictures merely took from Alfred's natural good looks. He was unnervingly perfect in those photos, and Arthur would note that Alfred was supposed to have freckles there and his dimples showed more when he smiled like that, and he'd find himself tracing the curves of Alfred's cheeks with a finger and imagining warm skin underneath it instead.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and soon he was nearing the end of his first year of college, and he was afraid without school to motivate him, he'd fall back into that melancholia of the previous summer. Determined not to fall into that state again, he decided to return to his previous goal, only he'd have to accomplish it without Alfred. He was going to return to England.

It was about that time that Alfred's tour was announced, and he was heading that way shortly before Arthur's planned departure. He had no money left, but Arthur would go to that concert if it killed him.

His first plan involved those radio contests, and he practically lived by his phone waiting for that cue to be "caller number 9!" and win his way into a ticket, but he was always too soon or too late and soon the contest was over and he still didn't have a ticket. In desperation, he took up every odd job he could, no matter how dirty or degrading, to make the money to afford one, but by the time he had enough money, the concert was sold out. His one last chance to be Alfred's biggest fan and he had blown it.

He was resigned to his fate of being miserable for the remainder of his stay in the States, when life decided to throw him another curveball out of the blue one day when he was finishing the last tasks of his final job.

"You're Arthur Kirkland, aren't you?"

When Arthur turned to meet the source of the voice, his chest felt tight for a moment. _Alfred?_ But no, although there was a resemblance, this boy's face was softer, more…forgettable, although that last thought wasn't without some guilt.

"That's right…may I help you with something?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! Erm, I'm Matthew Williams! Alfred's cousin!"

Arthur shook the hand offered to him. Cousins. So that explained the resemblance, but not why he was there.

"Pleasure to meet you, but I'm sure you know you won't find Alfred here."

Matthew smiled pleasantly. "Oh, I know that my doofus of a cousin isn't here! I'm here to see you actually…there's something I wanted to give you, that is, if you hadn't gotten one already…Here!"

Arthur's eyes widened when he realized just what Matthew was offering to him. A concert ticket, and a backstage pass on top of that. "But why? I mean, it's not like I wanted to go or anything…" He knew his cheeks were burning, though.

This time the boy's expression was sympathetic. "You know, when Al was working with my father and I last summer, you were all he'd talk about? It was always Arthur this and Arthur that, and I asked him why he hadn't confessed his feelings for you yet. I think he hadn't even realized up until that moment that he was in love with you. He really is hopeless!"

Arthur stared helplessly at Matthew, his insides twisting into knots. "What are you saying?"

"My cousin may be really stupid and a show off and a pain in the ass and…many other things, but I want him to be happy. I was surprised when he said you two weren't in contact anymore. He seemed really upset, and that just doesn't suit him!"

He must be pulling his leg, Alfred was the one who had dropped their correspondence and he was upset? "This is really very kind of you, but I can't possibly accept this-"

Matthew cut him off with a smile. "Please take it! I told you, I want my cousin to be happy, and I think you're the key to that. You care about him too, don't you?"

Arthur's blush deepened. "Of course I do."

"I'll be counting on you, then!"

Before Arthur could respond again, it seemed as though Matthew had vanished, leaving Arthur confused, but with that glimmer of hope he'd long lost sight of.

He'd never been so nervous over something in his whole life as he was over going to that concert, but he kept reminding himself that it was just a concert, and he was just another fan, and it was nothing to worry about and somehow he managed to get himself to the show without incident.

It was easy to blend in with the crowd, as it was primarily compromised of screaming girls of various ages who jumped up and down and left him well hidden.

The crowd really went wild, however, when Alfred himself decided to grace the stage with his too perfect presence, waving and smiling a bright smile, and occasionally reaching down to grasp the hands of his shrieking fans. He paused momentarily center stage and, with a desperate look, scanned the audience wildly as if searching for something (searching for him, maybe), and Arthur shrunk down and away. There was a brief flicker of disappointment on his face, but then Alfred greeted the audience and the concert was underway.

Alfred playing live with a backup band and the lights on him just so was truly an experience. It was nothing like those private performances back in his room, nothing like the music videos or the radio, no, Alfred _owned_ the stage, and sang as if he was singing personally to each and every member of the audience. Arthur watched in fascination as some of the girls up front fainted as Alfred turned and winked at them, and other fans were dragged away by security when they tried to climb up on stage with him.

In the end, Arthur felt as if he didn't deserve that star up on the stage, whether or not he had once been his.

Some other band took over when Alfred was done, and only a portion of the crowd stayed, the majority crowding the security guards blocking the way to the dressing rooms, screaming to be let through. Arthur nervously fingered the pass he'd gotten from Matthew, and wondered if he shouldn't just leave, when he had a sudden burst of confidence and pushed his way through the crowd.

There waiting for him was a very tall man who had a very serene smile on his face, but the aura he exuded was anything _but_ serene. Arthur had the feeling that if he didn't have the pass and tried to get by, his neck would be snapped in two in an instant. Once again, his resolve started to fade, as he flashed the pass with trembling hands. The man's serene smile seemed to become even more serene and frightening as he moved to let Arthur by.

"Last room at the end of the hall. Have fun, da~?"

Arthur nodded mutely and scurried past as fast as he could, only pausing to catch his breath when he was long out of the man's sight.

He pressed on, but the moment he reached Alfred's dressing room door, he lost his nerve. Just as he turned to leave, the door opened and there was Alfred, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree when he saw him. Arthur froze for a split second, then fled.

"Arthur!" Arthur didn't dare look back, and just tried to run, but Alfred was still too fast for him. Arms encircled him from behind, and he couldn't help the sharp intake of breath at the contact, the touch he had been _aching_ for for months. "Arthur, you really came!"

"_Alfred_," Arthur replied hoarsely. His knees felt like they were turning to mush and it was all he could do not to turn around and throw himself against Alfred.

"Come on, I want to talk to you!" Arthur couldn't protest before he was dragged back to Alfred's room, where several curious pairs of eyes greeted him. "Hey guys, can I talk to my friend alone for awhile?"

The other members nodded and herded themselves out, that French bastard of a manager winking appreciatively at Arthur as he passed, earning a cold glare in return. Alfred locked the door behind them and turned to face Arthur with an elated expression on his face.

"So you must have gotten my email, after all! I was so worried when you didn't respond to any of them that you hated me or something and never wanted to see me again, but damn, you're here!"

Arthur blinked, his mind still hazy. "Email? What email?"

"What do you mean? I've been mailing you everyday for months!" Alfred frowned.

"No, you haven't! You never responded to mine after that first television program you appeared on!"

An uncomfortable silence hung thick in the air as Alfred stared at him. "I know you're angry with me, Arthur, but look! I really did write you songs!"

Alfred dug through a box and retrieved a rather large accordion file labeled "Arthur" that was stuffed with sheet music. Arthur took it out of his hands and picked through song after song about him and only him. Just what the hell was going on?

"What happened to your only inspiration being the city and the people you met there?" Arthur swallowed after hearing how thick his voice sounded.

"It's like I told you in those emails! Those record label guys were saying things about how it would ruin my image to be in love with someone already, so I decided to keep my public and private lives separate. It's not like I'd be the first celebrity to keep my love life under wraps. I didn't think you'd react so badly to it!"

"I already told you I didn't _get_ any emails, you daft bastard!"

Alfred continued to stare blankly for a few moments, then a look of horror washed over him. "Oh god. They gave me a new email address to go with my website and…they must have blocked you or something and…um."

Arthur squared his jaw at the realization of what had happened. He had been miserable and lonely for nothing?! _Nothing!_ "You had no trouble kissing me in front of all our classmates without knowing my feelings, and yet you can't tell your adoring fans you already have someone?"

"It's not that simple, Arthur! This isn't high school, it's how I make a living! They wanted an innocent country boy who was fascinated by the big city and looking for the right girl to settle down with, so that's what I gave them! I never would have made it this far if I had gone with what I really wanted. I mean, Francis said it would be all right, but I didn't want to risk it. Maybe someday when I was really something, I could tell them about you, but then you stopped talking to me, so all I had left was this!"

"Ha! Ha ha ha, here I was afraid you had changed, but I was wrong. You're still a selfish brat who only thinks of himself."

"What was I supposed to do, Arthur?! Drop _everything_ on the chance that you'd take me back? Hell no."

"You could have at least called."

"Yeah? Well, you could have done the same."

The air was tense, but suddenly it hit Arthur that he really had been miserable for nothing, and all he had to do was reach out and he could take back what had still been his all along.

So Arthur did the only thing he could do. He punched Alfred right in the face.

The American stumbled backwards, clutching at his nose and staring in shock as he pulled his hand away and found blood staining his fingers. "What the fuck was that for?!"

"That's for all the misery you put me through!" And also to mar that too perfect face, because it was still unnerving to him.

"For the misery _I _put _you_ through?!" Alfred's face had fallen into a dangerous glare and then he threw a punch back at Arthur, who wasn't afraid to attack right back.

They were getting violent, and loud, and Arthur faintly wondered if that scary security guard wouldn't come and put not only an end to the fight, but to his life, when something abruptly snapped and changed, and suddenly they weren't trying to hurt each other so much as they were trying to get as close as possible. There were rough, angry kisses with teeth and tongues, so unlike the soft and experimental ones they had always shared before, and Arthur was slamming Alfred against a nearby wall so he could attack his neck with a flurry of possessive nips. Alfred's panting was music to his ears, and just _everything_ about how he was reacting was making his head swim.

"Arthur. _Arthur._" Alfred gasped insistently and tried to push Arthur away. Arthur relented, and he couldn't help the satisfied smirk that spread on his face when he took in Alfred's disheveled appearance. He couldn't imagine what Alfred would say to his fans when he went to meet them looking ragged, with a bloody nose, bruised lips and those unmistakable markings on his neck.

His wicked thoughts of ravishing Alfred further were interrupted by the fond look on the American's face and what he said next.

"God, Arthur, I missed you so much."

There was something about the way he said it, with so much honest emotion and relief, that Arthur's breath hitched. He crushed his lips to Alfred's again, preventing him from saying anything further, because he didn't trust his voice to say it back and damn it, he wasn't going to cry. He wasn't. That apparently didn't stop Alfred from seeing right through him, though. His hands reached up to cup his face, thumbs brushing against his eyes and wiping away the tears forming there.

Eventually the gentle ministrations became too much to handle, Arthur's breath coming out in short shudders and his face finding his way to Alfred's neck, to that perfect fit. Alfred's voice was against his ear, singing some gentle song or another, and Arthur thought he could be happy if he stayed just like that forever…

---

He had too many things to pack, too many memories to attempt to squeeze into the meager luggage he was taking with him and narrowing down the options was proving a challenge. At the top of his list, with no contest, was Alfred's jacket. With no one (especially Alfred) around to make fun of him, he stopped in his packing to hold the jacket close, its owner's smell still lingering, and close his eyes.

"_So you're really going to England, huh?"_

"_Ah. It's what I wanted all along, and it's as you said, not even you can keep me here."_

"_You…you'll wait for me, though. …Won't you?"_

"_Of course I will, and unlike you, I plan to keep my promise."_

"_That wasn't even my-"_

"_Alfred. I'm kidding."_

They'd be all right this time, he knew. The distance might even do them some good, even if he'd miss the physical contact. But then that was all the more reason to hang onto the jacket, so eventually its owner would come retrieve it. Arthur continued to hug it close to him, but then caught sight of his watch.

"Damn!" he cursed and stumbled over to his TV. Alfred swore up and down that _this_ time he couldn't possibly miss the entertainment news ("I've got something awesome to say!"), and he'd already missed part of it.

"…true that you have someone you love already, Alfred?" Arthur's jaw dropped. No way, Alfred was seriously going to admit that to everyone after that speech about why he couldn't?

"That's right, my heart's already taken, but I hope you'll forgive me, ladies," Alfred pleaded to the audience, winking and flashing a winning smile. Arthur _swore_ he could hear the collective swoon from Alfred's adoring public. He merely rolled his eyes.

"So tell us about this love of yours! He must be something pretty special to get your attention!"

Alfred's face lit up into a mischievous grin at that. "He's a stuffy old man of nineteen…really a hardass who needs to lighten up, you know?"

Arthur made a mental note to himself to _break_ Alfred's nose and not just bloody it the next time he saw him.

"But…there's no one out there more important to me." Alfred was doing that adorably awkward and shy thing, and this time Arthur ignored the collective squeal he swore he could hear and smiled fondly at his (_his!) _love on the screen.

"And I hear you've written a new song about him that you want to perform for us?"

"That's right! It's really my best one yet, so I'm really excited to show you!" Alfred jumped up, grabbing his guitar and smiling brilliantly at the camera. "Hey, Arthur! This one's for you!"

Just for me, Arthur repeated in his head and listened with a goofy smile on his face.

Of course it was only natural that it was Alfred's greatest hit.


End file.
